V7 Announcements

Credit to staff for writing the announcements: Deamon, Emprexx Plush, MK Kilmarnock, Backslash.

The First Announcement
Saturday, October 15th, 2016: Johannesburg, South Africa, 4:30 PM

The domino effect that led Adimabua Lawal from poverty to comfort started with his obsession with detail. It had convinced instructors, in the most generous sense of the word, from his village all the way to Kaduna State that he was worth their attention. When he became a desk clerk at the Bafra his attentiveness carried him from part time work to meet education expenses to a position in management. A Master’s in Accounting and a fifteen year reputation took him to Abuja, Accra, Cairo, Luanda, Kampala, Dar Es Salaam, Johannesburg; any city on the continent would receive him with the right recommendation. Many cities in the world at large as well, if he desired to see them as more than numbers. Looking at all they had given him, it was hard to deny his curious instincts were a gift.

Adi would deny it, of course, but he would not blame an outsider for their confusion. Dredging through information that seemed benign beyond the uneasy twinge in his gut was often a thankless task. You could consider it like turning over loose stones in the wilderness. Most often you would find nothing at all, and once in countless numbers of flips you might find something of notable value. A man who dedicated his life to the task might make a passing career with enough luck, but only if he avoided the outcome that fell between common failure and rare success. There was always a chance when you exposed the dirt to daylight you would disturb something irritable, some coiled creature now wary of your intrusion. Any reasonable person would be wise to retreat carefully enough to make it seem you were never there before forgetting they saw anything. Only a fool would press on after its greeting, and they were owed no distress when bitten.

The black 2009 Acura TL waiting beside his normal parking spot would not have raised suspicion if Adi had not been very, very foolish. Scanning his apartment’s underground parking structure had become a habit over the last few months. It would have been more productive to stop prodding at the inconsistent transactions he’d discovered, but he could no more do that than stop staring at every unknown vehicle he noticed before he parked. So every day he came home expecting to be discovered, and every day his paranoia was unsatisfied.Today was no different until an impeccably dressed woman exited the Acura’s rear passenger door and tilted her glasses down at him. She could pass for a foreign consultant, though one you would not notice unless she demanded your attention. When her dark brown eyes fixed on his, though, Adi understood her purpose. He had been noticed.

No.

He had been bitten.

They took M1 out of Killarney. He was more familiar with the motorway’s southern path to Soweto; if he had not been interrupted he had planned to visit Lwazi, treat him to dinner if his pride would allow it. Instead they headed north to the highway. They could end up roundabout to the CBD, perhaps, Joubert or Hillbrow. Alexandra. Honeydew.

“Mr. Lawal?”

Sonia, as she’d introduced herself, sat across from him in the back seat. She had questioned him again a few moments ago. He’d already lost it. The silent driver she had declined to introduced gave him a look of contempt through the rearview. “I apologize. Could you repeat that?”

“How long have you been following these transactions?”

Fingers bridged in his lap with a long exhale. “The first...it is hard to say. No more than a year ago, maybe less. I did not pay much attention to it.”

The driver’s eyes returned to the road. There was silence other than the sound of traffic and Sonia’s scribbling. “Why?” She did not look up at him.

His bright, broad smile reflected in the mirror. “It was not my account.”

“How many accounts have you connected now?”

Adi tapped his fingers together. “Twenty-three.”

She looked up from her notes. “Are you responsible for any of them?”

“No.”

Sonia raised an eyebrow. He did not wait for her to verbalize the question before he chuckled. “I know, I know. It is hypocritical, but I am getting old. Little excites me but mystery. My boyfriend, he never stops scolding me, I cannot help prying where I do not belong. It causes him much stress trying to keep up.”

“Does he know about this?”

He made sure to have her attention before he spoke. “No. We do not discuss business, only gossip. He is harmless.”

Her expression did not change. “Of course. What about your coworkers? Your supervisors?” Eyes settled on him in the mirror. Adi swallowed and shook his head.

“No. I did not know what I would tell them I found at first, and once I did…”

“What have you found?”

His hands came up slowly. “I do not know. I know what surrounds it; forged dates, suspect accounts, names and companies that seem to come from nowhere, but the heart of it? I could not tell you. I do not believe I would want to tell anyone if I could.”

When Sonia’s pen stopped and her eyes lingered on his face, he knew he had misspoken. “Say you have to come up with something. What would you tell me?”

No matter what else was to come, Adi could not say they had been unkind to him. He had entered the car on invitation, been allowed to retrieve his satchel though it sat out of reach in the empty front seat, even been given a cold bottle of water for his troubles. He had not opened it until now, but Sonia’s unflinching stare had left his mouth dry. She was still looking after he wiped the condensation from his lips. “Have you heard of the Miss World riots?”

For the first time since they’d met under his apartment, Sonia gave him a hint of a smile. “I haven’t.”

Adi shook his head. “I do not blame you. They did not hold international interest long. I lived in Kaduna before they broke out. We never wanted the contest to come here, you know, even those with no religious objections. It was a messy thing, too controversial. It is fascinating if you wish to learn another time. For now...it is simplest to say a journalist in Lagos took the opportunity to make unkind remarks at The Prophet’s expense.” He paused to take another sip. “It went as one would expect.”

His gaze went from Sonia to the window past her. At the speed they were going the countryside all blurred together. If he let his eyes unfocus he could be anywhere, even Kaduna on the morning of November 20th, 2002. “I managed for a hotel at the time, the Bafra. I heard discontent on all sides every day, so I should have known it was coming. It was so fast and so slow at once. Nothing came the day the article was published, or the day after. Monday morning she was fired, Tuesday they issued a front page apology. It was finished. We would return to unrest rather than outrage, that was the hope.”

His left hand stilled the nervous bouncing in his left knee. “I am not a religious man, but I appreciate the buildings. There was a church a few blocks from my apartment I liked to visit, and Wednesday morning was free." It was clear now. His tense slipped' drifting from recollection to visualization. "As I approach it a van tears down the street beside me, nearly clips me with a mirror. It screeches to a halt in front of the church but before it stops I see men pour out of it, more than I imagine can fit. Crude weapons in some hands, gasoline in others. I should not be here, I tell myself, I must go but I do not. I stare as bodies are dragged screaming from the church. Beaten, tossed down its steps. There are flames lapping at its walls. That is when he sees me.”

The eyes in the mirror bored into him with increasing impatience, but Sonia’s hint of a smirk had not faded. “I know him,” Adi continued, “I know his face though I have never seen it so twisted in anger. It has been some years since we attended class together now, but we still recognize each other, and that is dangerous for a man in his position. He cannot know the rioters will be too numerous to name or to punish. He approaches me with carnage in the background and asks, very simply, what I have seen.”

His time was running thin. There was only so long before it looked like he was stalling. “You do this for a living, so I am sure you know the first instinct in all of us when we are caught doing something we should not have done. To deny. I tell this man I have seen nothing, and now I have not wronged him....unless he does not believe me. I am not a good liar, but this man does not want to hear the truth. Not this truth which makes his work harder.” Adi shrugged. “So I offer him another. I tell him on my walk I saw a building. A warehouse, I think, though for what I only guess. It has been undisturbed for all the years I have lived near it. A disservice to the community. If someone were to put it to use it would be for the greater good, even if their works go unseen. Perhaps, I wonder aloud, he would like me to show it to him, and you know? He smiles. He claps me on the shoulder as a brother, and he returns to his business with new peace of mind.”

Adi’s gaze returned to Sonia with fresh intensity. “What I am trying to say, miss, is with all of this laid out in the open I would not tell you anything.” He watched her face closely. “Instead, I would like to ask you if you want to see a warehouse.”

Her expression melted back to professional neutrality. Sonia leaned back into her seat and returned to her notes without response. “I don’t have any interest in warehouses, Mr. Lawal.”

Adi’s heart sank into his stomach.

“But I know someone who does.” She kicked the front seat. “Eyes on the road. Pretoria.” Sonia turned back to Adi. “Hell of a pitch. Hope you can pull it off twice.”

If he looked closely enough, he swore he could see amusement in her eyes.

Monday, June 11, 2018: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM

Tracen stood looking at the set-up in front of him thoughtfully. He was considering how things were and whether a change had been necessary. In the end, he decided that yes, he did deserve the new chair.

He stepped forward, cup of coffee in hand and took his seat. It felt different, but not in a bad way. He took a sip as he spread his notes out then placed the cup down on the desk. It had been an interesting day, to say the least. He was pleased with that. It was exactly what they wanted.

After a quick skim through his notes, and a small line alteration he was ready.

He pressed the button and the speakers hidden around the island burst to life for the first time. There would be many more times yet to come.

"Good morning everyone and welcome once again to Survival of the Fittest." He took another quick sip of coffee.

"I'm glad you all took our briefing to heart. We worked hard on it, so it's good to you see you all taking that inspiration."

"First up this morning, we have what could be a new speed record when Abel Zelenovic was beaten to death by Paloma Salt. Don't worry about it too much, most of you were still asleep."

"The next person to meet their end was Toby Underwood who got his head blown open by Tirzah Foss. There's an important lesson for you all there and it's trust no one."

Tracen paused to take another drink and idly spun the pen in his fingers.

"We continue with the first day craziness as Christine Bright was extinguished by Tyrell Lahti when he bit through her throat. Watch out for him kids. I think he might be rabid."

"In the first of what I'm sure will be many star-crossed lovers moments, Beryl Mahelona was reunited with Nick Ogilvie as he put a knife in her neck. It's sad, but this is what happens in this game."

A small grin played at Tracen's lips as he read the next pair of names.

"Felix Rees was the next one of your classmates to meet his end as busy boy Tyrell Lahti shot him in the chest and then double-tapped. I don't know if Felix was a zombie but either way he's not coming back from that."

"Meanwhile as that was happening we had an example of having a twitchy sword arm as Katrina Lavell tested her blade on Yuko Hayashibara."

"Next up there was some Quinn on Quinn violence as Quinn Abert stabbed Violet Quinn in the gut. A classic method of murder but people appreciate the hits."

"As if it wasn't already obvious to all of you, Dante Luciano Valerio found out the hard way that taking a nap on the island is a bad idea as Blaise d'Aramitz blew his head wide open. Presumably, there was nothing inside."

"Finally we finish with a bit of a health and safety PSA. Head injuries are very serious and can have unseen complications. If they aren't properly treated the results could be fatal. This lesson is brought to you by Benedict Murray who collapsed hours after Justin Greene cracked his skull with a tire iron."

Tracen tapped the pen against the desk and hummed gently over the microphone.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something...Oh right! As I mentioned when we first met there are danger zones you need to be aware of. Today's is The Waterfall! For those of you that can't remember, that means anyone in there will have their collars explode on them. You have ten minutes from the end of this announcement to leave, so don't waste time."

"And finally we were big fans of Blaise d'Aramitz and are pleased to announce them as the very first winner of the V7 Best Kill Award. Head to the Waterfall to collect your prize, consisting of a meal of pulled-pork sliders with coleslaw and a Coke, and of course a shiny new weapon."

The Second Announcement
Monday June 11, 2018: Undisclosed Location, 11 PM

The clock on the wall ticked in time to the beat of Jimmy Buffet’s “Cheeseburger in Paradise” playing through the small bluetooth speaker set on a battered filing cabinet. Just for a little bit, a small group of friends… acquaintances… …. Co-workers could enjoy some time to themselves in preparation for the days to follow. The hardest part was behind them all, but the most treacherous days could still be ahead of them if they slipped up. For those who were there ten years ago, they remembered the consequences, and they passed on the tales to those who weren’t.

A small circular table sat in an enclosed space that didn’t give much wiggle room for three of its sides. Maybe two-to-three steps to reach the two doors on either wall for the fourth. It was cramped, but it was all they had, the only space Greynolds could afford them when setting up their little game. A cooler sat underneath, giving birth to growing piles of discarded cans and bottles over time, with chips, crackers and snack cakes placed here and there.

“Alright, let’s get set up for game two,” said Dennis Lourvey. To his left, Josie Knight. To her left, Veronica Rai then, continuing around the table, Adimabua Lawal and finally Boris Petrikov, seated to Lourvey’s right. “Still Hold’em- Adi, hand me those chips? Count ‘em up, we should all have 20K. And Boris,” Lourvey pushed up his glasses and threw a glance to the sullen-looking man sitting beside him, “I swear to fuck, if you go all-in on the first round AGAIN we’re not inviting you back for our game nights, got it?”

Adimabua placed the chips in Lourvey’s hand as directed with a smile to Boris. Whether he took it anywhere from mocking to sympathetic was his decision; he was not certain how he meant it himself. Little was certain in the tense energy of a game in full swing. There was confidence, yes, the reassurance of a routine practiced for more than a decade by some of his compatriots. There was an air of unease around it though. For those who had served under Mr. Danya’s predecessor he assumed the fear of discovery played some role. Others, like Boris, had more personal discomforts. Only a portion could be attributed to the nature of their work. When Boris scanned across the collected $100,000 around the table with a flicker of hunger in his eyes Adi suspected it came from more than greed, but who could say? Still others were unreadable to him. If there was more beyond the surface to Rai, for instance, he was uncertain he wanted to find it.

Before he came aboard that was a rare feeling. The gossip of hidden motivation had been his favorite way to pass the time at work events before now. Even he was wrong, and in fairness he was often wrong, it was more engaging than most activities thrown together by committee. Where was the harm? In his old life he was harmless. The worst he could expect were harsh words. Adi did not play such games with the Taskforce. He was too fresh with tensions too high to expect unwelcome questions leading anywhere but an equally unwelcome departure. The words had not been used explicitly, but he considered himself in a probationary period where the threat of termination had taken a more literal meaning.

That did not require him to be unfriendly. The cards Lourvey dealt him tipped upwards at the edge of the table and he shook his head with a chuckle. “Fortune does not favor our corner,” he mused to Boris at his side. “I am reminded of a card game we played in university, Thuni. We played for money, or drinks, or,” a gesture with two fingers in front of his lips cut off the thought, finishing with a shrug. “As students do. There was also some undesirable task assigned to being the greatest loser. Does this game have similar penalties?”

Something like a smile crossed Rai’s face at the suggestion. Though Adi hadn’t been speaking directly to her, she responded from his other side. “Why not make some? Make things more interesting.” She nudged Josie under the table. “Worst loser can do Josie’s laundry.”

She wasn’t that good at poker - strategy had never been her forte, nor had discretion - but she was hanging in there. Doing better than Boris, at least. Guy went all in way too soon. Rai had just come to assume that Boris was at least tipsy at all times, and that assumption held now.

“What the fuck?” Josie said with a grin and laugh as she raised her beer to her lips. “If we’re talking when I get back from the island sure. That place is a sweaty hellhole.” Poker was a game she had acquired a lot of experience with over the course of her life hanging around in bars, and in a more important way she’d learned how to effectively cheat. Although the difficulty of cheating was raised when there was so many people at the table.

“And yeah Boris, we prefer taking our time and making Lourvery sweat it out over as long a time as possible.” The can she had been drinking from was discarded and another one retrieved. It had been fun, with the additional benefit of she was getting paid for it. Josie let the cards slide across the table to her and didn’t look at them before betting. “So what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” She asked the gathering, grin still spread across her face.

“If I have to do your laundry that would quickly top the list, lemme tell ya,” Lourvey shot. He flinched when something furry and orange hopped up into his lap. “Damn it, George, can it wait!?” he asked the ornery old cat, who had decided Dennis’s lap was now the ideal napping spot.

“Better you than me,” Rai muttered. “I’m allergic.” Not completely untrue, but the reality was that she just wasn’t much of an animal person, either in the way that people usually meant it or in the Josie way that meant she liked to hang them on her wall. The time she spent petting the forlorn seeing-eye dog until he stopped being so damn pitiful at being taken away from his person didn’t count.

Boris interrupted the proceedings by shoveling his chips to the center of the table.

“All in,” he slurred, getting a collective groan in response. Lourvey slammed his can of Red Bull on the table, while the old tabby in his lap was too grizzled and stubborn to care.

“God dammit Boris, go to bed. You’re drunk,” Rai grumbled.

Tuesday, June 12, 2018: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM

Another day down and more deaths had appeared on his list. Including some that had been missed from the first day. Tracen wasn't sure how things like that kept happening even after all the years they had been running things but he had just accepted it as part of the setup. Ironically, he was always drawn to how unprofessional it made them seem, as if anyone who would be watching the feeds or the students themselves cared about something like that. It was a strange and ridiculous ouroboros of how they viewed themselves. One of the first things he had learned from Greynolds and the old tapes of his father was that presentation was everything and missing deaths ruined their presentation. It was a small detail that maybe only he cared about, but letting small details go unaddressed was what had led to his fathers' death in the first place.

So when Tracen had been passed the list he had glared at it for a long while. Then eventually he had managed an 'alright'. As he sat there watching the clock tick ever closer to nine his annoyance ebbed and flowed. It would be fine. He could deal with it after. His pen tapped against the desk as the time ticked over. Then he pressed the button.

"Goooood morning students! We are back once again to give you a rundown of how the game and is going and I have to say you certainly have packed a lot of drama into twenty-four hours so thank you for that."

"First up, we begin with a set of interesting events that transpired in the early hours of the morning. During the course of an argument, Mikki Swift ended up shooting Phillip Olivares and Terra Johnson but in the process Terra managed to shoot her as well. Then just when you thought it was all over Zachary Beck managed to stab an injured Bree Jones, and she nearly made it as well. These things happen I suppose."

Tracen clapped his hands together.

"Right. Try not to cut things so close to the announcement in the future, kids. It messes with our bookkeeping, and we know that none of you want to be forgotten.

"We begin the day proper with a more lowkey death as Sapphire Waters bled to death following an altercation with Lorenzo Tavares. It was so lowkey that it wasn't even noticed that she'd died because of our previous announcement. Imagine having your death upstaged by a disembodied voice."

"Next up white knight to be Danny Chamnanma fell, literally and figuratively to Quinn Abert who notches up her second kill after stabbing Danny and then using him as a crash mat. Points for style."

Tracen read the next name on his list and the description of their death and gave an exaggerated sigh.

"So, it appears that a group of you don't understand health and safety and managed to emulate a set of dominoes, leading to Cammy Walker-Grimsleyto fall off the Nature's Lookout platform. Since this was a Rube Goldberg machine of stupidity no one gets credit. Oh also, if you thought you heard someone calling for help in the wilds, don't worry, you did."

"Compared to that our next kill is elegantly simple. Kyle Harrison was shot by an angel...did I say angel, sorry, I meant Violet Schmidt. I hear those two get confused a lot."

"Ron Kiser didn't watch his back and ended up with a bullet in it courtesy of Tirzah Foss. Hats off to Miss Foss, she's a real go-getter."

"Another death by gunshot as Desiree Beck had her mind, and head blown courtesy of Erika Stieglitz who went long with the shot. It was quite impressive."

Tracen tapped the pen on his desk again as his eyes scanned the rest of the list.

"It appears that the horror movie prop we put on the island with you got put to its proper use as Nona Hart or Marco Hart now whatever you prefer, it's not like we care. The important part is they put the insides of Kayla Harris on the outside."

"As we continued on with the day we had a battle between two heavyweights as Jeremiah Anderson was bested by Nick Ogilvie, who continued showing his hated of throats. Protect your necks around that guy.

"Kelly Nguyen got a mercy kill... oh no wait, she killed Mercy Ames. Best make sure you check your food and drink if someone else has handled it before you; you never know what might end up in there.

"Then there was a tale as old as time. Friend finds friend, friend approaches friend, friend gets shot. This happened to Regina Petrov and Caroline Ford when Caroline shot Regina and then decided to vandalize one of our cameras, so we followed through with our warning and blew her head off. Do not mess with our cameras."

Tracen let some menace seep in as he finished off the list before perking back up again.

"Anyway! As our time together this morning comes to an end I must remind you that in good news you are free to go to The Waterfall but in bad news The Menagerie is now off-limits. If you stick around or wander into there, you're going to find out just how effective our collars are."

"And the final thing on our itinerary is to offer congratulations to Violet Schmidt. We thought you did the best job of eliminating the competition today and as such you are the winner of today's BKA!"

Tracen gave a small burst of applause.

"Your prize of blackened chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and seasoned green beans, and a new weapon, can be found in The Menagerie, specifically The Aviary. We hope you like it."